Kings and Pawns
by antilogicgirl
Summary: spoilers, manga 314, 316 Asumacentric . As things are returned to normal in Konoha, Asuma realizes what his life is really worth, when compared to that of a very great man. And one to come.


**A/N:** Ah, I finished reading some of the manga that I needed to catch up on, and this hit me all of a sudden. If you didn't catch it in the summary, there are spoilers for chapters 314 and 316 of the manga, so if you don't want to get spoiled, then you might not want to read further. This is mainly just my attempt at capturing what Asuma's mental state was like in these two chapters. He's an interesting guy, and he reminds me a lot of another ninja. Read on to find out. For once, there is no swearing, no blood, no sex, and no crazy people. The only bad thing in the whole story is Asuma smoking a cigarette.

**Legal Stuffiness:** I do not own Naruto, or any of the characters therein. Kishimoto Masashi, sole proprietor.

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**Kings and Pawns**

Never before had any other leader been so honored. Looking at the carved flame of the tomb, there was no question that it was a great man that lay beneath the five-ton slab of granite. The world seemed a little darker now. One less flame burned brightly against the dark. Everyone missed him, in their own way. Naruto missed the oyaji who would give in to his wants every now and again, like an indulgent grandfather would. Iruka, for his part, missed the surrogate father he had found in him. Tsunade missed her teacher, as did Jiraiya. Perhaps Orochimaru, in his twisted mind, found that there was one fewer challenge for him. But the man that stood over the tomb of the Sandaime just missed his father.

"You were one hell of a dad, oyaji." Asuma took a long drag from his cigarette. It was a habit he'd picked up a long time ago. His father had not approved, until Asuma had pointed out how much tobacco ended up stuffed into the bowl of his pipe. Then, they would just smile knowingly, secretively, when one or the other of them would pull out a pouch or a small square box. It was something that they hoped would end up killing them, speeding old age to let them die in their sleep. Not a kunai, a katana, or a jutsu. "I know that you know, wherever you are, but I think I should say it anyway. I'm sorry. Sorry for leaving the village. I'm sorry for doing things that didn't make you proud of me. But I did come back. The pawns have to protect the king, after all."

It wasn't the first time he'd visited the monument's base. Not the first instance of him standing for nearly an hour in front of that sinuously carved stone that sat right under his father's massive stone chin. But for some reason, it all hit him right then. Drawing in a stuttering breath, he held it in for a long moment. Then, he put down his cigarette, allowing it to burn like incense at a shrine. It was their incense, his and his father's. For a time, he simply watched the blue-gray smoke curling around the depiction of flame, wondering where his father was.

What he was doing was altogether certain. He was with Yondaime. They wouldn't be happy, but they were together. Fighting Death for all eternity had to have its drawbacks, and Asuma was sure that both men appreciated the company. His father, the great man. The man whose smile never seemed false, whose eyes saw through any trick, except one. Asuma, being the laid-back sort of man that he was, did not have it in him to be overly angry at Orochimaru. Certainly, if the opportunity arose—in, say, a mission; or if by chance he met him walking down the road—he would do his best to kill the man. But Asuma's love of life was great enough that he would not seek him out. The way he would repay the debt he owed the old man would be to live on, and protect the village as a good pawn should, and the new king, when that king presented itself.

"Enjoy the smoke, dad." Turning, he left the tomb. The feeling of leaving something behind grew the further away from the stone faces he walked. He knew that it was stupid to feel that way. It was just one of those things that you were never really ready for, losing a parent. Smiling softly to himself, he scrubbed his fingers through his beard. Thinking back to his last game of Shogi with Shikamaru, he thought perhaps he could get a rematch. He felt the need to talk, and Shikamaru was good at listening. Asuma thought, if anyone could understand the revelation he'd had, it would be his student.

_ Two hours later..._

"You, Shikamaru, are a knight."

"How's that?" The young man asked, peering shrewdly across the board at him.

"You're a weak piece, but with fast movements that are deceptive. The action doesn't fit the shape, so it's surprisingly agile, which is much like you, and the way you think. People see you. On the outside, you don't move too much. You look like you're always on point of falling asleep. But I know what's going on inside your head, unlike them. Always thinking." That was Shikamaru's great talent. He was always able to think his way out of things, whether it be work, an argument, or a battle. Shikamaru looked his sensei in the eyes, apparently weighing his words.

Leaning forward just a bit, Shikamaru asked, "Well, if I'm a knight, then what are you, sensei?"

Voice sounding far away, and speaking around his cigarette, he pointed at the pawn. "I'm noone." A ghost, a shadow, a pawn.

"The piece that gets sacrificed to save the king?" Shikamaru's sarcastic half-smirk stretched and pulled at his face. Asuma did not pick up his student's lighter mood, but continued on his original train of thought.

"And...if I'm the pawn, then you know who the king is, yes?"

"Hm." Slender brows drew down in concentration. "That would be the Hokage, right?"

Asuma shook his head. Well, Shikamaru was smart, but he didn't know _everything_. He said in a rather enigmatic way, "I thought of that too, but now I really don't think so anymore."

"Who is the king, then?"

"You'll know when the time comes." Asuma stared down at the board, watching as Shikamaru placed his piece. It had come out of nowhere, but he found his opening. Without saying another word, Asuma moved his pawn, and Shikamaru's eyes widened. The pawn was taken, but it left a gaping hole in the defense his student had so carefully constructed. Asuma understood, now. As he watched Shikamaru's hands form that familiar circle, that habitual comforting gesture that only came out when he was backed into a corner...he knew that for a pawn like him, the only way to protect the king was to be between him and the swinging blade.

And when that time came, he would stand there, and take the blow as best he could. For a pawn, glory only came after death. To be able to meet his father on the other side and to look him in the eye, he would live a pawn. He would die a pawn.

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** A/N**: Ne, I think that's the absolute shortest thing I've posted. What did you think? The urge to write that struck me all of a sudden. Please review, and tell me what you think. 


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